Treachery's wake

15

Malthooz hurried down the street behind Lidda. They were moving toward the docks. He had no idea where she was going or what the rogue had in mind. His own mind was racing too quickly for him to reason out anything useful.

They hustled on for what seemed to be hours. Up and down the streets of Newcoast they skulked, keeping an eye out for members of the city guard, trying not to draw attention to themselves while ducking into alleys and doorways at the slightest hint of pursuit. At this point, anyone and everyone that Malthooz trusted was behind bars. Everyone but Lidda, he reminded himself. And how much did he really know about her?

His thoughts drifted to the warmth and camaraderie he'd felt in his own village. All that day he missed it terribly and berated himself for ever leaving. The times he spent seated around a fire listening to the elders telling stories, recounting tales of brave heroes who'd been dead for generations, tales of an all but forgotten age-nothing in the world seemed so appealing to him. He shook his head. Those heroic times were long past, and he was a long way from home. If he held any hope of helping his friends he would have to abandon such romantic notions and deal only with reality.

They made their way slowly along the waterfront, passing the rows of wharves that ran the length of the city's bay. Lidda moved as though she knew what she was looking for. Malthooz had a hard time keeping up, he was hungry and cold, and he wasn't sure how the halfling would react to a question even if he could get her to slow down long enough for him to ask something.

Lidda turned toward the edge of the pier. She looked down for a second then dropped over the side. Malthooz ran to the edge and peered over.

The rogue stood on a narrow dock that was sunken between two larger piers. The platform floated on the surface of the bay, anchored in place by a long row of pilings. A ladder ran from the side of the wharf at Malthooz's feet to the tarred planks below. Lidda had obviously taken a quicker way down.

Malthooz climbed deliberately down the ladder, trying to look nonchalant. Lidda crouched amidst a pile of crates and netting. Malthooz dropped down next to her, his heart pounding. He looked around for signs of the city guard, but no one was in sight. A few squat rowboats bobbed gently along the length of the dock. Above him, Malthooz heard the sounds of men unloading the ships that towered on either side of their hiding spot.

"I've got to go to the guild," Lidda said.

Malthooz shook his head slowly, collecting his thoughts. He wasn't sure that was a good idea. Someone had set them up, and the guild was the prime contender for lead suspect. He didn't want to question Lidda's loyalty to himself and the others, but he knew how much she wanted the guild's favor and thought that her desire might be clouding her judgment.

Lidda obviously saw his hesitation.

"I know that the gnolls are responsible for the wizard's death," she explained. "I think that Wotherwill wasn't being straight with us."

Malthooz listened but didn't respond. Lidda's theory could make sense, if the gnolls had known about the treasure and set out to steal it for reasons that weren't clear. He'd seen the hunger in the old mans eyes during their first meeting and knew how well the wizard had paid them for recovering and delivering the staff. Clearly it was very valuable, but Lidda's theory relied on many "ifs." If the murder and theft had been engineerd by the thieves guild, all the pieces fell into place much more readily.

"Remember, Wotherwill said the thing attracted evil," Lidda argued, "and that gnoll was a spellcaster, too. I think the wizard stole the staff from it in the first place and the gnoll was just stealing it back. Or maybe it was working for another owner."

Malthooz stopped shaking his head, but he still wasn't convinced.

"If you have any better ideas, speak up, Malthooz," spat Lidda. "I know what you're thinking. You don't know whether you can trust me. If the guild was behind all this, then I might be part of it."

Malthooz gulped. The accusation sounded so harsh coming from her.

"If you want to see the others again, we're going to have to work fast, and we're going to have to work together. Once the system in this town gets hold of them, they'll either be put to death or left to rot."

Lidda paused, looking for some sign of agreement from the half-orc, but he only sat silently, head bowed.

"Flint's our only option, whether you trust her or not. She trusted me with this job," the rogue pleaded. "I think she'll help."

Malthooz stirred. "All right," he responded, nodding slowly. "I can agree with you that there doesn't seem to be any other way. I think it's a big gamble, though."

Lidda grinned.

"But," Malthooz continued, "I'm not going with you."

Lidda tried to object but the half-orc ignored her. He was stalling, trying to work things out in his mind, piecing together the events of the past few hours.

"Look at it this way," he said. "It will be safer for you if you approach the guild alone, and I'll feel better about it. If the situation is the way you think it is, then everything will be fine and it won't matter if I'm with you or waiting somewhere else, but if you're wrong, or even if something happens to you, I'll still be on the loose. I know it's a long shot, but there's always a chance I might come up with a plan on my own."

"I think you're being foolish," she said, "but you're probably right that they wouldn't let me through the back door with you in tow."

The rogue stood up, looking quickly in all directions before stepping out from the jumble of crates where they were hiding.

She paused for a moment and said, "There's an inn close by the guild. It's called the Lock and Keel. We passed it about an hour ago. There's a pair of oars hanging over the door. Do you remember it?"

"I think I can find it."

Lidda smiled and said, "Good. Wait for me there. I don't know how long this will take."

The rogue turned and hustled down the dock. She climbed the ladder two rungs at a time. Seconds later she was gone. Malthooz settled back against a crate. He took a deep breath and looked at the sky. The sun passed behind the white cloth of a sail. By the time it hit the line of hills on the far side of the harbor, he'd have his answer, the half-orc thought.

Moments later, he was on his feet. He wasn't sure what compelled him or what he hoped to find as he climbed the ladder and stepped onto the street. The cleric had called it faith. He was acting on no more than a hunch, he knew, but at least his intuition hadn't recently been proven to be riddled with flaws. It was as good a place to put his trust as any other, Malthooz thought as he set out for the Bung and Blade.

He moved purposefully along the waterfront, believing that he would attract less attention if he looked as if he knew where he was going. At the same time, he kept an eye out for the city watch. Sailors and stevedores passed him by without a glance as he made his way to the nearest alley. Malthooz had no clear idea how cities of this size functioned. It seemed amazing that anyone could keep track of so much activity, let alone keep tabs on everyone or find a particular person. He moved along quiet, narrow, shadowed streets as much as possible, and joined in jostling crowds where necessary. Half-orcs were not that common in Newcoast. He paused a few times to hide amidst the rubbish and barrels crammed into the narrow spaces between buildings.

When at last he rounded the corner of a narrow lane that ran behind the Bung and Blade, the breath caught in his throat and he jumped back into the shadows.

As he'd feared, the inn was being watched. A member of the city guard stood at each end of the alley, and two more stood near the front entrance. That left little hope that he could sneak into the place, though the thought of his pack of books lying in the room upstairs made him long to try. The sleepy, bored look of the guards was almost enough to make him believe he could do it. One of them leaned against the building grooming his fingernails with a short knife while two others tossed a cupful of dice beneath the front window of the common room.

The official presence didn't seem to be frightening off any customers. Malthooz watched a knot of patrons make their way through the front door. Then again, from what hed tasted of this city, murder and thievery were everyday occurrences.

"Damn," he cursed softly.

At least he knew for a fact that he and Lidda were still wanted, that even in a city this size, the guard still held hope of finding them. Malthooz turned to go, but stopped. Another figure stood in the shadows near the front of the pub. A dark cowl covered the person's head and hid his face. He appeared to be thin and of average height, dressed in a plain, dark cloak. One of the dice-casting guards stood up and approached the man. Malthooz saw the guard surreptitiously take something from the mysterious figure and stuff it in his pocket. The figure then stepped from the shadow and slipped down the road, disappearing from the half-orcs sight around the nearest corner.

Malthooz shook his head. His imagination would get the best of him if he allowed himself to see conspiracy in every transaction. He turned to go. If even the city guards were corrupt in Newcoast, he thought, then he still had a lot to learn about cities.